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SUMMER FILMS/RISING STARS

SUMMER FILMS/RISING STARS; A Hansel Transformed Into His/Her Own Gretel

By JOHN LELAND

Published: May 13, 2001

THERE comes a time in every man's life when he must pull himself up by his pantyhose and show people who's boss.

For John Cameron Mitchell, that moment came last summer in Toronto. He was filming ''Hedwig and the Angry Inch,'' doing double duty as both director and star, which meant he had to be in costume even when moving cameras and sets around.

As he recounted the incident a few weeks ago, Mr. Mitchell, 38, spoke softly in the flattened, lingering vowels of the Great Plains. He wore a red plaid shirt, just this side of flannel. During the shoot, he recalled, he cut quite a different figure. ''I was running up and down hills in heels and yelling, 'Move those trucks!' in a large wig, to Teamsters.''

The Teamsters dutifully took direction, he said. These days, even outside the major sin cities, a guy in a dress is no longer such a big deal. This little wisdom, that we have come a long way from the burlesque of ''The Rocky Horror Picture Show,'' lies at the heart of Mr. Mitchell's movie, which opens on July 20.

In a summer calendar full of eager blockbusters, ''Hedwig and the Angry Inch,'' which won the best director and audience awards at the Sundance Film Festival this year, is a smart, funny little musical whose most outrageous special effects come from the house of Maybelline, not Industrial Light and Magic.

Based on a 1998 cult Off Broadway show, which Mr. Mitchell wrote and starred in, the movie tells the story of Hansel, an East German boy who grows up in thrall to rock 'n' roll and hungry for the world beyond the Berlin Wall. When he meets a handsome American serviceman, the two concoct a scheme to marry and leave the country. Unfortunately, just dressing the part of the bride will not get Hansel out of East Germany; as Hansel's mother observes, ''To be free, one must give up a little part of oneself.''

So begins the drama, as well as the egregious punning. A botched sex-change operation leaves the patient, now named Hedwig, with a knot of scar tissue, an angry inch. In this state of gender limbo, Hedwig transforms herself into a wisecracking, ''internationally ignored'' rock singer whose calamitous tour of strip mall restaurants forms the movie's narrative structure.

Mr. Mitchell originally conceived of a story built around a secondary character, a teenager named Tommy, who steals Hedwig's heart, then becomes a huge rock star by stealing her songs. The character was loosely autobiographical. ''Tommy was more like me,'' Mr. Mitchell said. Both are sons of Army generals and came of age in Junction City, Kan., somewhat befuddled about sexuality and religion.

''I went to a very small Catholic school,'' Mr. Mitchell said. ''It wasn't an easy place to be growing up gay. I remember my girlfriend dropped me for the guy I thought was really cute.''

When his brothers and his peers were selling their souls to Led Zeppelin, he found his muse -- if not much of a social life -- in the choreographer Bob Fosse. Zeppelin found him later.

After coming to New York as a Broadway understudy, Mr. Mitchell started to work on Hedwig in the mid-1990's, collaborating with a musician named Stephen Trask, who wrote all the songs and lyrics for the show and the movie. At the time, Mr. Mitchell was performing in musicals on Broadway and off, and had a role on a 1996 Fox sitcom called ''Party Girl.'' The drag culture in downtown New York gay clubs in this period was being transformed, from stylized, hyperfeminized lip-synching to a more rugged rock 'n' roll aesthetic. ''Everything was opening up,'' Mr. Mitchell said.

Drag was moving in from the margins. RuPaul, a drag performer, became a hit singer; Gloria Estefan, pregnant with her second child, hired outrageous impersonators to ''do'' her in concerts and videos.

At a SoHo club called Squeezebox, Michael Ortega, who performs under the stage name Misstress Formika, began playing host to a weekly rock night that drew a mix of gays and straights, curiosity seekers and celebrities. Mr. Mitchell was a regular; Mr. Trask led the house band.

''I was known as the rock 'n' roll drag hostess of the East Village,'' Mr. Ortega said. With Mr. Trask's help, Mr. Mitchell persuaded the hostess to allow him to develop a character on the club stage.

''Some of the drag queens were really suspicious, because I wasn't a real drag queen,'' Mr. Mitchell said. They referred to him as a baby drag. Nor was he quite ready for Mr. Trask's brand of trashy, glam-influenced rock. ''At the first rehearsal, I'd only done Broadway musicals up to that point. I remember someone in the band said, 'Are you going to do it with that vibrato?' Which to them wasn't very rock 'n' roll.''

Ultimately, though, the more seasoned performers embraced Mr. Mitchell, teaching him the tricks of the drag trade. Mr. Ortega offered pointers in how to apply what he calls ''clowndation,'' because it goes on so thick, or how to avoid 5 o'clock shadow. ''A little red lipstick under the foundation offsets the blue of the beard,'' he said. And during long days in character, it saves time to shave with the makeup on.